


As fate would have it

by you_make_me_wander



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, College, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-28 18:28:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3865198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_make_me_wander/pseuds/you_make_me_wander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia and Stiles have been sharing an apartment for two years when Lydia is invited to her cousin Jade’s wedding. (Not so) Accidentally, Jade is told that Lydia will be taking her boyfriend as a plus one, but truth is Lydia is actually single. The duty of having to pretend he’s dating Lydia falls, of course, on Stiles, but as it turns out pretending isn’t really that hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fake dating Stydia fic. Canon-divergent post S4 and set in the near future.

They’ve been living together for the better part of two years. And no, _he’s_ _not_ dating Lydia Martin.

Trust him, he’d know.

He has repeated that sentence so many times for the last two years that it’s probably printed on his forehead by now.

Sure, they are great together and have made out occasionally during that period - more often than occasionally but, well, _technicalities_ – yet no, they _are not_ dating. In fact, it’s in times like this that he loathes her, wishes he’d never taken up on her offer because they are so close that the redhead knows exactly what to say to get to him and he hates it. And okay, it’s not like he doesn’t know what to say to get to her because he does, but that’s not important right now.

What’s important right now is that Lydia might have come up with the worst idea ever and it all began with a call from Natalie…

xxxxxxxxxx

They are two weeks into summer break when, one late afternoon, Lydia comes out of her room and makes her way to Stiles, who's sprawled on the couch reading a comic. "Mom wants to say hi," she tells him with a smile.

He takes the phone from her eagerly, forgetting his reading promptly and throwing the comic book to their coffee table. "Hey Natalie," he greets vivaciously.

“Stiles! How is my favorite spazz?” The older woman teases from the other side of the line, a playful tone in her voice as always.

"Perfect. I think I'm turning into a couch potato though, and it's your daughter's fault. She doesn't encourage me to get out of the house." Lydia sits beside him and punches Stiles in the stomach a little harder than necessary, making him sit up promptly. "Ouch!" Lydia laughs. "You know, your daughter just physically assaulted me," he exclaims exaggeratedly to an amused Natalie. "The only reason I'm not dragging her ass to jail is because I need her to help me pay the rent."

 _And because you like my ass_ , Lydia mouths. Stiles smacks her with a pillow.

Natalie laughs freely to his ramblings as always, engaged in the conversation. Hearing from Stiles makes her day every time. He continues. "How are things back home?”

"Oh you know," Natalie sighs. "Same old boring Beacon Hills, nothing much ever happens here." Even after a few years, Natalie continues oblivious to the supernatural.

"Yeah I know, right?" Stiles muses.

 _"Is that him?"_ Stiles hears a younger voice call, a woman who's obviously not Lydia's mom.

"Who's that?" He asks curious. In response, he hears giggling from the other line and finds a slightly apprehensive Lydia staring back at him.

"Oh honey, you'll meet her soon, don't worry," Natalie clarifies. "It's Lydia's cousin Jade. She's visiting."

He catches the other woman saying _'Hi'_ in the back. "Well, tell her _hi_ for me," he mutters. "And please let her know that you Martins are gonna be the death of me one day. At this rhythm, I’ll have met your whole family in a year, Natalie, and putting up with Lydia is more than enough, you know?” He mocks, raising an eyebrow at the strawberry blonde and laughing, successfully avoiding her blow this time.

And Stiles has got a point. In the last year alone he has met almost half of Lydia’s family. One of her aunts from her father’s side had a big 50th birthday party a few months ago and they made sure that Lydia went. Because she didn’t want to go alone and her father would be there - Natalie had politely declined the invitation -, Stiles tagged along at Lydia’s insistence for support as her friend.

Like he would say no, anyway. Lydia asked, he went.

“Then you should already know us Martins better than that Stiles,” Natalie jokes. “We’re aiming for less than a year for you to meet everyone, sweetheart.”

“Ah! Aren’t you funny,” he whines.

They talk for a little while longer and it’s a regular occurrence, all the kids talking to all the parents. Ever since they left for college, that homesick feeling hits them sometimes, more so because everyone is back in California except for Lydia and Stiles, who are living together all the way in Massachusetts. Scott and Kira left Beacon Hills but are still in California, also enrolled in college; Scott didn’t want to stay too far away from their hometown but he couldn’t stand being there anymore either, so he left and Kira went with him. Stiles and Lydia, however, dreamed bigger; everyone knew that. So when the letters came and Stiles found out that he had been granted a scholarship, he found himself conflicted because the Stilinskis could barely afford for Stiles o move so far away, not to mention how he’d miss his dad to death.

Lydia stepped in then, showing up at his house one night after he had ignored her phone calls all day. He knew that if someone could make him change his mind, it would be her, and she did. Lydia made him see that his dreams were important, that they mattered, that he mattered. That his dad would still be there when he got back, and that if something were to happen Scott was close by. When he shared with her his concerns about moving over 3000 miles away and how he didn’t know if he could afford it, she didn’t think twice about it. Lydia had already talked to a family friend and found a small two-bedroom condo for herself close to campus, so it was only natural that Stiles shared it with her. In reality, even before he brought it up Lydia had already assumed that they’d live together. The opposite had never even crossed her mind, not that she intends on ever admitting that to him. And so Stiles accepted and that’s why they have been living together for the better part of two years.

Stiles wraps up the conversation with Natalie. “Well, gotta go. If I don’t feed your daughter, she’ll starve and I’m not really up to having a dead body in my living room.” He laughs at Lydia’s scowl. “And if I don’t talk to you soon it might be because she killed me. We’re about to decide what we’re having for dinner.” And truly, he’s only half joking; Lydia and Stiles tend to argue a little too much when it comes to deciding their meals.

Natalie is well aware of that. “Well, since she can’t hear me, just know that I’m rooting for you,” the woman tells him and Stiles beams.

If only he knew how much she means that… “Good to know,” he smirks deviously. “Talk to you soon.”

“Take care, sweetheart. And check your texts,” the woman teases.

“Okay sure, I will,” Stiles replies a little confused. “Bye.” He hangs up and returns the phone to Lydia.

She places it on the coffee table and stirs on her seat to get closer to Stiles, her bare legs touching his. Stiles doesn’t hesitate, and lets his hands caress the skin of her legs for a moment before pulling them to his lap, as usual, while Lydia adjusts to sit right beside him. This is normal, or at least as normal as one can consider between two friends, especially in moments like this, when Lydia got out of the shower not long ago and her damp hair is still tangled because her mom called before she could dry it; when the only thing she’s wearing is a t-shirt and panties (and Stiles is sure she’s not wearing a bra. Way too many months living with her to know when she is and when she’s not wearing one!).

Stiles loves these moments. Loves seeing how carefree Lydia has become around him, loves knowing how relaxed he has become around her. Because while Lydia is barely clothed at the moment, Stiles is not so different since he’s only wearing some shorts. It’s summer, it’s hot both outside and inside the house and they’ve been living together for almost two years. They couldn’t care less. Damn what other people think!

“I seriously love your mom," Stiles tells her, reaching for his t-shirt. Even if they’re used to this proximity between them by now, things tend to happen when one of them is without a shirt on.

“Well, I can tell you that she loves you more than I do right now,” Lydia answers, a smug smile on her lips. “Why are you putting your shirt on?” She asks teasingly.

“Why shouldn’t I?” He counter-argues, amused. They don’t even need banter for things to happen between them now. If things have to happen, they just do. “See something you like?” Stiles mocks, raising an eyebrow.

Lydia snorts, amused. "You are despicable."

"You love it, shut up!"

“I was just asking because I was wondering if you were cold, that’s all, since it’s pretty hot in here,” she states matter-of-factly, grinning.

“I better not answer that,” he says with a small smile, blushing even if this is pretty much part of their daily conversations.

“So…” Lydia starts playing with the hem of her shirt, avoiding his gaze purposefully and trying not to smile already because she knows he’ll see right through her. “I was thinking maybe dinner could be on me tonight.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “What do you want?”

She pretends to be offended, proud of herself for not giving in to the smile so soon. “Why would you assume that I want something, Stilinski?”

“First, dinner is never on you, _never_. Second, you just called me by my last name. And third, you have that look.”

She smiles. “What look?”

He smirks. “What do you want, Martin? Spill it.”

Lydia is the one blushing this time. She’s sure he’s gonna kill her. “So uh… I was talking to my mom and a cousin of mine is visiting…”

“Yeah. Jade, right?”

Lydia nods. “We grew up together basically, me and Jade. She’s just a year older than us. She lived in Beacon Hills with her dad when we were kids. We were really close back then.”

“Oh.” For a split second, Lydia looks a little sad and Stiles’ thumb starts moving in lazy circles on her thigh. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“I think she was fourteen when they moved. We talk on the phone from time to time but I haven’t seen her since then.”

“It’s too bad that you’re not home now. You could have seen her,” he says apologetic. Pausing, Stiles thinks for a moment. “Is she staying for long? We could go home sooner, if you want.”

Lydia purses her lips in a smile. Even though they are only supposed to return to Beacon Hills over a month from now to visit, she knows that Stiles would do it in a second for her. Then she blushes, remembering the purpose of the current conversation. “Actually, that’s what I want to talk to you about. Sort of, I guess. She’s getting married.”

Before Stiles can assimilate what Lydia is trying to tell him, he bursts out laughing. “YES! You owe me ten bucks.” Lydia frowns, remembering their bet. The one who’d be cursed to have to go to a wedding from a family member or friend their age first would lose ten bucks. Don’t judge them; they were drunk when they did that, make the bet. That and other things, if Lydia remembers correctly. Absently, she bites her lip at the memory as Stiles keeps rambling. “I’m so glad it’s you and not me,” he chuckles. “Ah man, I’ll have to tell Scott. He owes me another ten.”

She slaps his arm. “Stiles, focus.” He stops laughing but he’s still smiling when he lays back down on the couch, his right hand moving to her lower back. Lydia fixes his shirt; no need to be looking at his happy trail right now. Yet she still licks her lips, distracted for a moment.

“Right, sorry! Again, what do you want?” he asks playful. It always seems to be like this with them these days.

“Continuing…” Lydia rolls her eyes, feigning annoyance. Stiles pinches her lightly in retaliation and she slaps his arm again. “Jade’s been visiting the family to invite everyone to the wedding. That’s why she went to see my mom. It was just good timing that we were on the phone when she stopped by, so I got to talk to her.”

It hadn’t necessarily been good timing. Natalie took advantage of the situation the same way Lydia did, even if she’ll probably never admit to that either.

Stiles interrupts her. “Is that what all the squealing was about?”

Lydia might or might not have been jumping in excitement, letting out little squeals as her cousin told her everything about the proposal and the wedding plans and her other news. She chuckles. “Yes. Now will you just let me finish?”

Her hands betray her as Lydia approaches the question that she really wants to ask him, and before she knows it she’s leaning down beside him on the couch, her right arm resting on his chest as she maps his muscles slowly, like she’s used to do when she’s a little nervous. Stiles notices and shuts up, nodding for her to continue.

“Jade invited me to the wedding, of course…” Lydia ignores the mocking face he’s making. “The thing is that I might have told her I was bringing someone with me,” she confesses embarrassed, her cheeks turning scarlet.

Stiles starts laughing again. “You what? Not only you’re the first who’ll have to go to a wedding, but now you’re also gonna have to find someone to go with you? Why’d you do that?”

It’s always funny to Lydia how oblivious Stiles can be sometimes. “And not only that but my mom thought it would be funny to tell Jade I wasn’t bringing just someone, but my boyfriend.”

Stiles chuckles. “Your mom hates you so much sometimes…” Lydia frowns. “When is the wedding?”

“In three weeks.”

“Wait, _three weeks_? And your cousin is just telling you guys now?” He asks, surprised.

“Jade and Oliver have been engaged for over two years but they recently found out that maybe it would be better if they rushed things up a bit. Or a lot, actually.”

“Wait. Don’t tell me she’s…”

“Pregnant? Yes.”

“Wow! I’m really sorry for you, Lyds, I am. Not only do you have to attend your first wedding as an adult at 21 years old – and your pregnant cousin’s wedding, by the way - but you only have three weeks to find a date to attend said ceremony with you?” He kisses the top of her head and chuckles. “I’m really, really sorry. I’ll make sure not to forget to buy you lots of ice cream the next time I go to the grocery store. Don’t worry, I got you covered,” Stiles says with a grin.

“Oh, you really do.”

“What?”

 _Here we go_ , she thinks. “Have my back. Brace yourself, Stilinski, because my mom might have told Jade that _you_ are my boyfriend.”

Stiles sits up quickly, his heart racing suddenly, his grin disappearing completely. “What? Why would she do that?!”

Lydia swallows, nervous, sitting up too. “Well, she was telling Jade that you and I have been living together ever since we left Beacon Hills and it kind of slipped…” Lydia lets out, a sheepish look on her face.

Stiles frowns. “Slipped? Things like that don’t just slip, Lydia.”

“Well, it did.”

“You were on the line too. Why didn’t you tell her we’re…”

“Not dating?” Lydia finishes for him quickly. God, she hates labels. “You know my mom, Stiles. How many times have we told her that? It’s like she’s in denial, you know that…” It is. Natalie will tell anyone that Lydia and Stiles are dating. As the woman sees it, eventually it will stop being a lie. And to make matters worse it’s not just Natalie who seems to be in denial; it’s Natalie and the Sheriff and Melissa and pretty much everyone from the pack.

“You still could have told your cousin the truth.”

“With my mom there, Jade wouldn’t have believed me.”

Stiles concedes; Lydia is probably right. “Then you could have told her you’d go alone and the boyfriend part would be forgotten.”

Lydia purses her lips. “Maybe I don’t want to go alone,” she murmurs embarrassed.

“You could go with a _friend_ ,” Stiles tries to reason.

“Again, she wouldn’t have bought that. Not after my mom said that I was taking my boyfriend.”

“Well, just call her back. Your cousin, not your mom. She’ll understand, right?”

Lydia gets a little annoyed at his stubbornness even if this is not his fault. “And tell her what? That it’s a lie and that I’m alone, that I don’t have anyone? And actually go to the wedding alone? No, thanks.”

Stiles exhales sharply through his nose. “Okay first, I take it back. I hate your mom. Second, you’re not alone, you have me. Don’t be a little bitch about it.” Lydia chuckles at his rambling. “And you don’t have to go alone, Lydia. Just find someone to go with you.”

“That’s why I’m asking you,” she admits, blushing again. Stiles and Lydia can flirt easily; they do it pretty much every day, but if things get a little too personal one of them tends to back out, afraid to cross a line.

Except when they’re drunk. A lot happens when they’re drunk.

“Lydia, you can take anyone, come on. You could have so much fun…” He has to admit that his heart faltered at her confession, but why would Lydia want to take him? “What about Adam? He seems interested.”

Adam is their downstairs neighbor, who’s been drooling over Lydia for a month. He’s built, British and has a pair of blue eyes like Lydia hasn’t seen before, perfect for a one-night stand, she likes to think. But the thing is he’s got nothing on her current roommate. “It’s gonna be for a full week, Stiles.” She tucks her hair behind her ears. “Jade’s gonna need some help to prepare things at such short notice, you know? So some of us are gonna go a little earlier to help out. And I’m not gonna take someone I don’t know to the wedding of one of my closest family members for a full week of pretending to be dating the guy.”

They are quiet for a while as he ponders. When Stiles breaks the silence, Lydia is not sure if she wants to hear what he has to say. “If you’re asking me to go with you, Lydia, I’m more than happy to. But you’ll have to call Jade and tell her we’re not dating and that you’ll be taking a friend. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“But I don’t want that.”

“Lydia…”

“Stiles, I don’t want my first wedding to be like ‘ _Oh, look at her. She doesn’t have anyone. She’s gonna end up alone with nine cats._ ’”

Stiles looks at her a little proud like he does sometimes, a glint in his eyes and a small smile on his lips. “Okay, I definitely think we’re spending way too much time together. You’re dramatizing just like me.” She scowls and he chuckles, cupping her cheeks and meeting her gaze. “That’s not gonna happen, Lyds. People won’t judge you – and if they do, fuck them.” She smiles. “And you’re not gonna end up alone, okay? You’re just 21.”

She looks down in defeat. Her voice breaks. “Stiles, would you… Would you just do it? For me?”

He notices that there’s something she’s not telling him yet, but as always she’ll let him know in time. And whatever that may be, when she glances back at him looking like she’s lost without him, Stiles knows he’s gone. He’d literally do anything for her, even if it means getting himself hurt in the process.

It’s not like it would be the first time, anyway.

They stay in silence for longer this time and he retreats his hands from her cheeks, keeping them on his lap instead. “You realize that we’re gonna have to pretend to be dating for that to work, right?” He voices lowly.

Lydia purses her lips once more. “Shouldn’t be too hard. I mean, we live together, we’re close friends. And we have chemistry, it’s not like we can deny that…” It’s hard to tell who she’s trying to convince: Stiles or herself. “We can make it work,” she says determined.

He lies back on the couch again. “We’d have to pretend to be a couple in front of your family. We’ll have to kiss and cuddle and stuff like that.”

“It’s not like we haven’t done it before.” They have. Too many times, really. At least for two friends who adamantly tell people that they’re not dating. “Just not in public, but I’m sure we’ll manage.”

His fingers fidget nervously on his belly and Lydia knows his mind is probably analyzing every aspect of this. “I don’t know if this is a good idea, Lydia…”

“Please, Stiles. We’re just starting summer. It’s not like we have anything better to do anyways, come on.”

They are only supposed to return to Beacon Hills in a little over a month to visit their family and friends. It’s when Scott and Kira will be there too (they are away visiting Kira’s family), so until then Stiles and Lydia planned on doing absolutely nothing. And okay, he has to admit that he likes the possibility of being Lydia’s date to the first wedding she’s invited to, but this is a recipe for disaster, Stiles is well aware. Why can’t they leave things as they are right now, perfect?

At his silence, Lydia pleads again. “Stiles, please don’t make me go out there and choose a random guy to be my fake date at a wedding.”

Like he’d actually let her do that. “Can I think about it?” She nods reluctantly and Stiles gets up from the couch. “Chinese takeout for dinner?”

“Let me go grab dinner tonight. It’s the least I can do,” she offers, feeling a little guilty for putting him in a position that, she’s slowly realizing, could jeopardize their friendship.

Stiles smiles almost shyly. “It’s okay, I don’t mind. It will give me time to think anyway.” What he needs is to call Scott, like right now. This is too surreal and what is more shocking is that Stiles is seriously considering it. He might be freaking out internally.

Lydia nods again, agreeing with his choice for dinner without an argument this time, and stands up too, kissing him in the cheek. “Thank you. I love you.”

It has become fairly common for them to share such words; it’s almost second nature to them by now. It doesn’t imply their feelings for the other, not the romantic ones anyway. He only gives her a small smile, starting to feel a little jittery. “Save it for when I actually say yes to that indecent proposal of yours.”

“I’ll still love you if you say no,” she teases.

“Good.” He returns the kiss. “Love you too. I’ll be back in a few.”

Putting on some sneakers and grabbing his phone and his wallet, Stiles heads for the front door, already dialing Scott’s number as he walks out.


	2. Chapter 2

Scott picks up at the fifth ring. "Hey man," he blurts out, panting a little.

Stiles, still on his way down his and Lydia’s building, stops on his tracks at the Alpha's labored voice. "Scott?" He didn't sound panicked, Stiles notices. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" It wouldn't be the first time that Stiles' sense of opportunity failed him. "Because if I am, it's totally worth interrupting. Sorry buddy," he mocks.

"No, I just had to run outside," Scott explains. “One of Kira’s aunts is really grabby, it was giving me the creeps. I’m so glad you called, Stiles. Perfect timing. I really had to get out of there,” Scott sighs, genuinely relieved. “What’s up?”

Stiles gets out of the building and starts walking until the end of the street. At the strained moment of silence, Scott can already imagine what’s coming. “Scott, we might be crossing the line again.”

The werewolf rolls his eyes; this conversation happens more often than not nowadays. Every time that Stiles thinks that he and Lydia might be going in a direction they shouldn’t, going too far, he calls Scott for guidance. In all honesty, Stiles is not really sure why he even bothers to call his best friend; it’s not like Scott gives great advice or anything. But there’s also, of course, the fact that Scott is only in on like 3 to 5% of Stiles and Lydia's current situation, so it’s not really his best friend’s fault.

Scott knows it won’t be long until Kira joins him outside too, certainly talking on the phone with the banshee like they always seem to do when these talks happen between himself and Stiles. “What is it this time?” He asks.

Stiles keeps walking. “Okay, so Lydia was invited to her first wedding – you owe me ten bucks, by the way – and Lydia might have told the bride, who’s her cousin, that she was taking someone with her. You know, as a plus one.”

Scott chuckles. “And that’s you?”

“Apparently, but that’s not the problem though. The thing is that Natalie told her niece that Lydia is not taking just someone but her boyfriend. As in _me_ , Stiles,” he lets out, his voice failing him a little in the end.

To Scott, Stiles actually does sound a little freaked out and if he’s being honest, this tends to happen more times than Scott has the patience for. It’s getting ridiculous. “And…?”

“Don’t you ‘ _and…?_ ’ me, Scott.” Stiles frowns, making a turn and walking the rest of the distance to the Chinese restaurant in a slow pace. “This is serious!”

“And _I am_ being serious!”

“Scott, Natalie keeps telling everyone that Lydia and I are dating and now she wants me to take her daughter to a wedding as her fake boyfriend,” Stiles rambles, irritated.

“And what’s the big deal about that, Stiles?” They have this argument all the time. Looking over his shoulder, Scott watches as Kira walks out of her aunt’s house talking on the phone as well, probably engaged in a similar conversation with a certain redhead. They grin at each other. “Do we have to go through this again? Because the only two people who still think you two are not dating are you and Lydia,” Scott states assertively.

Stiles groans. “How many times are we gonna have to tell you that we are not dating?” He asks exasperated, running his free hand through his hair and making it more of a mess than it usually is.

“You can keep saying it until I believe, Stiles. Are you seriously telling me that you two are just friends?”

“YES!”

 _Time to hit him with the facts then_ , Scott thinks. “You two make out all the time, neither of you have been in a relationship since you started living together, you’ve been inseparable ever since the whole ordeal with Malia, you even know her better than you know me by now… Do you want me to continue, Stiles? Because I can.” Even if Stiles can’t see him, Scott raises an eyebrow in challenge, slightly amused.

Stiles stops for a moment, rolling his eyes and huffing before starting to walk again. “I hate you so much right now…” Stiles sighs, deciding to defend himself and Lydia from everything that Scott said. “One, I know her probably as well as I know you. Two, we’ve been inseparable because she couldn’t stand being away from my charming personality, And three, we haven’t had other relationships because we don’t need to.”

“You go and tell her about your ' _charming personality_ '. I totally wanna hear what she has to say about that," Scott mocks. "And the making out part?”

“We’re lonely sometimes, it’s not a big deal,” Stiles replies nonchalantly.

Scott’s tone is as sarcastic as he can manage. “Lonely? In college? _Really_?” He chuckles. “And you and I didn’t make out when we felt lonely,” he states, trying to reason with his best friend.

“Not for lack of trying on my part, buddy,” Stiles bites back.

Scott rolls his eyes. “You two don’t just make out, Stiles. What about what happened three months ago?” And here’s the thing. As far as Scott knows, what happened three months ago was an isolated episode. He was told that Stiles and Lydia got drunk and that Stiles was already in bed and ready for sleep when Lydia went to find him, that they made out, and that things might have gotten a little heated after that. “Friends don’t give you a helping hand,” Scott says pointedly, an eyebrow quirking at his implication as he tries desperately not to laugh.

Stiles blushes. “Well, she’s a really good friend.”

“Are you kidding me?” The Alpha blurts out in disbelief.

Stiles can only be grateful that he hasn't told Scott everything. Actually, he has told him pretty much nothing and it's far better this way. Scott already bugs him too much with the very, _very_ little he knows. And the fact that Scott does know about it is a mistake; it had slipped out before Stiles could stop himself and he truly didn’t want to tell anyone. He actually went almost the entirety of the last two years without doing so. And impressively at that, he should add; it’s not like he didn’t want to tell the world about it. But still, ever since Scott found out, Stiles calls him sometimes out of uncertainty but keeps him out of the loop mostly, just trying to seek some sort of reassurance.

As it’s obvious by the current conversation, it rarely helps.

As far as the werewolf is aware, Lydia gave Stiles a handjob and that was it (aside from the occasional make out session between the human and the banshee that they had both agreed on telling Scott about to try and get him off their backs). But the truth is that not only that happened but more, so much more, and it all started way before Scott found out, happening far more frequently than the werewolf was ever told.

 _Details_.

“We all have moments of weakness,” Stiles excuses himself. “We’re there for each other, so what?”

“Are you even listening to yourself? It’s ridiculous, Stiles. You’re the only ones who apparently don’t know you’re dating.”

Scott doesn’t understand. “We. Are. Not. Dating!” Stiles spurts out adamantly as he enters the restaurant, his tone a little louder than he intended making some heads turn around at his mild outburst. “Hang on a minute,” he mutters to the phone. Greeting Tom - one of the restaurant employees who’s also one of his classmates - and apologizing for his manners, Stiles places his order and goes sit on a stall waiting for the food to be ready. “We’re not dating, Scott. She’s my best friend,” he mumbles in a hushed tone now.

“All the more reason. How many times are we going to have to tell you guys that? Seriously, dude. In case you haven’t noticed, the only thing you need to be a married couple is to actually get married, okay?” Stiles rolls his eyes again. “You two kiss often, make out sometimes and I’m 100% sure that you haven’t told me everything…” Stiles swallows dryly. “And you know what? If that means that you and Lydia are working your things out on your own, I’ll forgive you if you’ll never tell me anything about it again. But Stiles, you can’t tell me there’s nothing going on there. Everyone assumes you’re dating, why do you think that is?”

Stiles rubs his temples with the hand that’s not holding his phone to his ear, closing his eyes for a second. “I think that’s enough of this for today…” There always comes a time when Stiles has to stop Scott’s babbling about him and Lydia or the Alpha won’t shut up about it. “Can we get back to more pressing matters, please?”

“You being Lydia’s date to the wedding?”

“Yes, Scott. Would you just try and be helpful? Geez…”

“What do you want me to tell you, Stiles? That it is a mistake and that you shouldn’t go? I can lie, if that’s what you want me to do…” Scott glances at Kira, who seems to be in a similar struggle.

Stiles stays silent for a while. “I’m gonna tell her I can’t do it.”

“Stiles…”

“What am I supposed to do? We can’t do it. We’ll be lying to everyone at that wedding.” Stiles, who’s been playing with a napkin to distract himself from his growing frustration, ends up throwing it in the trash can, completely ruined from how many times he’s creased it in such a short amount of time.

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you, man. As I see it, you’re only lying to yourselves but you know that, Stiles. I lost count to how many times I’ve told you that already. We all have. Whatever you and Lydia have, it changed after the incident and you know that. We all do.”

It happened during senior year, _the incident_ as they call it, and it’s something that neither Stiles nor Lydia talk about much. Nobody knows what occurred that night but them; not the whole story anyway. It happened, they dealt with it the best they could and worked things out between them like they do most things, wordlessly.

“You’re not helping at all, Scott. I don’t know why I even called,” Stiles scowls.

“Yes, you do. You needed me to remind you of all the things you want to ignore…”

“I’m gonna hang up now,” Stiles replies bitterly. “I hate you. Say _hi_ to Kira for me.”

“Okay, wait,” Scott sighs, conceding. “I’ll leave it alone.” For now, anyway. “Tell me more about it.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.” Scott shrugs his shoulders not sure of what to ask; he just wants to keep talking to his best friend and hopefully divert their conversation to Lydia again, to help Stiles see the light at the end of the tunnel and all that. Eventually he’ll have to. “When is the wedding?”

“In three weeks.”

“So soon?”

“Yeah, her cousin’s pregnant.”

“That’s wicked,” Scott says cheerfully. “Where is it gonna be?”

“Oh,” Stiles exclaims in surprise. “I don’t know.”

“Lydia didn’t tell you?”

Stiles frowns. “I didn’t ask, Scott. I was freaking out, alright?”

“Do you even have money for it, dude? You’re gonna have to buy a suit, right? I doubt the one you wore when you took Lydia to prom still fits you. You look like a giant nowadays.” Prom was actually the first time after the incident when most people noticed that Stiles and Lydia were different around each other.

Stiles can’t help but to grin at the memories. He hadn’t felt like going, not after everything that had happened with the incident, but Lydia had showed up at his house just hours before the dance with three dresses in hand and made him choose the one he liked the most. When he settled for his choice – a beautiful dark green dress that fit Lydia like a glove – she told him he had half an hour to get ready. When he started complaining and telling Lydia that he wasn’t planning on going, she stomped her foot and told him that if he wasn’t going, she wasn’t either. So yeah, Stiles got dressed.

Scott continues. “And like, if it's not nearby, you’ll have to find somewhere to stay and buy a gift for the newlyweds and all those things. Let alone the meals and transportation…”

“Shit, I didn’t think about that.” Stiles ponders for a little while, his fingers tapping on the counter. “It’s not a big deal, I think. We have some savings, though I was thinking of surprising her. I wanted to take her to Los Angeles for a weekend when we go back to California next month, you know, so I don’t know…”

Scott tries - he really, really tries not to - but it’s inevitable. Scott starts cracking up, laughing out loud. “I’m sorry, Stiles. I’m sorry,” he says, continuing to laugh freely. “Just… The more you try to tell me you’re not a couple, the less I believe it…”

Stiles frowns. “I hate you so much right now. I’m just trying to do something nice for her.”

“ _Right_ ,” Scott teases.

“Scott…” Stiles is so tired of this. _No one understands_. “You don’t understand…” he whispers, feeling beat.

“You’re right, Stiles. I don’t. I don’t understand why you won’t just make it official. It wouldn’t change a thing.”

“Because we’re not dating, that’s why!”

Scott sighs. “I can’t try and pretend that I know what you two have going on. And I can’t also imagine what you and Lydia went through when _it_ happened. But Stiles, you can’t tell me that there’s nothing there…”

Tom places Stiles’ order in front of him. “You know what?” Stiles blurts out upset. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Paying his classmate and thanking him, Stiles leaves the restaurant and starts heading back home.

“Stiles…”

“I’ll talk to you later. Bye, Scott.”

“Stiles, wait-”

Stiles feels bad for hanging up on his best friend but he knows that Scott doesn’t understand. No one does.


	3. Chapter 3

"Oh god."

"What?!" Lydia gasps, exasperated.

"I..." Kira stutters and frowns, trying to understand what Scott is mouthing to her. "I- I think that Stiles just hung up on Scott."

Lydia stops breathing. "Oh no."

Kira tries to reassure her friend. "Don't panic, Lydia. Stiles is probably just overreacting, you know Stiles..."

"Yes, I do!” Lydia hisses to the phone. “And he doesn't do that lightly." In fact, Lydia can't remember a time when Stiles had hung up the phone on his best friend, not out of a situation like this. The strawberry blonde starts pacing nervously in the middle of their living room, feeling guilty to her core. "I- I'll tell him to forget about it. I can't put him through this, Kira, I can't. I shouldn't have asked, why did I even-"

"Lydia, just do what you do better. Talk to him. You'll figure out a way, you'll see. You always do," Kira encourages.

Lydia runs her free hand through her hair anxiously and her breathing picks up. "I shouldn't have said anything, I'm so stupid. I should have just told Jade that I couldn't or-"

Kira interrupts the banshee’s rambling. "Do you trust Stiles?"

The question takes Lydia by surprise. It's not every day that Kira steps up and makes her stop talking, especially regarding the brown-haired boy. Lydia tries not to talk about him much. "W- What?"

Kira repeats the words slowly, smirking. "Do you trust Stiles?"

"Of course I do. With my life." Lydia has never meant anything as wholeheartedly as she means this, not that anyone understands. No one but Stiles, that is.

"Then you're gonna end this call right now and you are gonna take a deep breath. You're gonna relax and wait for that boy to get home and then you two are gonna talk it out, alright? You can do it."

Lydia can say for a fact that the kitsune has exactly the same amount of information about Stiles and Lydia's current situation as Scott does, yet somehow Kira always seems to be able to say the right thing to reassure Lydia, like for some reason she knows more than she lets on. She's been an amazing friend. "Thank you, Kira." Lydia doesn't elaborate; she's sure that Kira understands how she feels. Partly, at least.

Kira teases her friend. "Oh and let us know what you guys decide on. We need to start betting on it," she giggles in amusement.

"Ahah, very funny." Lydia chuckles, feeling just a little bit better. "Now I'm definitely ending this call." Much like Stiles, Lydia has been hearing from Kira all about how she and Stiles are apparently dating.

Which, for clarification, they're _not_.

“That’s fine, go on. Me and Scott, we have to head inside again anyways. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Sure. And Kira?”

“Yeah?”

No one understands. Lydia knows that just like Stiles does. Still, she smiles at their friends' intentions. “Thanks.”

xxxxxxxxxx

It’s easier said than done, of course. Lydia is a nerve wreck when Stiles gets home. He took way longer to get back than he usually does and it only added to her uneasiness. Not knowing what to expect always leaves her anxious, more so in the last two years, ever since the damned incident.

“Lyds?” Stiles calls for her when he enters the apartment, closing the front door behind him. Lydia mumbles something incoherent from the kitchen and Stiles notices that something is wrong the second he steps into their living room.

Everything seems tidied. His comic books and the magazines she had been reading during the afternoon are all neatly piled up on the coffee table, the empty bags of gummies they’d shared and their glasses are put away; the cushions on the sofa are all fixed. There’s a floral aroma in the air and so Stiles checks the floor. Yup, Lydia mopped it as well. This is Lydia when she's nervous, and in all honesty Stiles can’t help but to reciprocate the feeling for the time being.

Stiles makes his way to the kitchen to find Lydia sitting on one of the chairs, one of her legs up on the seat and clutched against her chest, her chin resting on top of her knee. The table is all set up just waiting for him, so Stiles places the bags he's carrying on one of the counters before turning to face her.

Lydia doesn’t even let him speak. “Stiles, can we forget that I said anything, please?”

The banshee is looking at him intently, pleading with watery eyes and Stiles hates seeing her like this. It’s how their _moments_ usually start. He shakes his head and makes his way towards her, cupping her cheeks instantly. He speaks softly. “No. We’re gonna leave it for now, we’re gonna sleep on it and talk about it in the morning. Don’t worry about it, okay? It’s all good.”

He gives her a reassuring smile and Lydia nods reluctantly, knowing that he means it. She huffs to dissipate her nerves. “Okay.”

Stiles doesn’t move until he sees her smile, and when she does Stiles kisses her cheek; he knows her too well. “Good. Okay, so on a slightly different note, I’m really torn about your mom,” he mutters playfully, starting to busy himself with taking containers out of the bags he brought.

Lydia smiles wider and gets up to help him, knowing that he's trying to distract her and make her feel better. Her voice still comes out more of a whisper. She’s already starting to feel a little weak. “How come?”

He takes a box from one of the bags and hands it to her. Opening it, Lydia finds chocolate carrot cupcakes, his favorites. She lets out a laugh. “Your mom texted me saying there was something for me at Francies,” he explains. Francies is a bakery in their neighborhood. The amount of times that Stiles stops by is close to indecent and Natalie knows it all too well. “A whole dozen cupcakes,” he blurts out, licking his lips absently at the sight.

His hands move to rest on his waist as he stands straighter, exaggerating his speech. “She said, and I quote, ‘ _Stop by Francies. I ordered something for you to apologize in advance. Love you sweetheart’_. She knows me, Lydia, like _really_ knows me. And my weaknesses too!” He runs a hand through his already unruly hair. “Honestly, I don’t know if I should love her or hate her.” Stiles watches mesmerized as Lydia swipes a finger through the frosting of one of the cupcakes, then licks it distractedly. He has to force himself to tear his gaze away. “So uh… Anyway, that’s why I took longer to come home. I had to go pick up her bribe.”

“You make it look like she has this hidden agenda against you, Stiles,” Lydia laughs, growing more relaxed by the second but not feeling necessarily better. _Dammit_. Though Stiles has a point; all things considered, Natalie does have an agenda, just not against him. But Stiles doesn’t need to know that.

Lydia hands him the cupcake, stealing a bit more of its frosting in the process before Stiles takes a bite. “Well,” he mumbles with a full mouth, savoring his price, “she probably has. She’s just as conniving as you are, so…”

Stiles shrugs his shoulders and laughs; Lydia slaps his arm, letting out a chuckle as well. As punishment, she gets closer to him and rises on her tiptoes, taking a bite of his cupcake right out of his hand, then licking her lips. She smirks at the blush that creeps up his cheeks. “Funny. I thought I was far, far worse.”

His heart skips a beat like it always does when she’s enticing, when she’s too close. Even when meaninglessly, it happens dozens of times a day; he counts himself as a very lucky guy. Thankfully, he’s more than used to it by now and reciprocity is something he cherishes. Stiles relishes in the way he can work her up just as fast. “You’ve got a little…” He cleans a bit of frosting from the corner of her lips with his thumb, then sucks it into his mouth like it’s none of his business.

Lydia purses her lips and the look they share for just a moment too long is anything but innocent, their eyes repeatedly moving from the other's gaze to their mouth, but now it’s not the right time. _Remember the system_ , she thinks to herself. Lydia takes a step back, a beautiful grin adorning her features. “Come on, lets eat.”

xxxxxxxxxx

Dinner goes by just fine. They eat in peace, talking about things that are in nothing related to the wedding that they’ll have to attend soon if Stiles says yes. After dinner and doing the dishes together, Stiles calls Zach – a guy they’re friends with in college who is also spending the Summer break in Massachusetts – and ends up taking Lydia out for coffee with some other classmates. They have fun like they always do but Stiles knows, just like Lydia, that it’s one of _those_ nights. He feels it in the way he becomes a little more worn-out as time passes by, more breathless, anxiety riling underneath his skin in a way that makes him cringe.

He knows it because it’s how Lydia feels too.

By the time they come back home it’s just past midnight. They haven’t mentioned the subject yet, true to Stiles’ word that they’ll talk about everything in the morning, but panic is already settled in. By the time they go to bed, Stiles could climb walls with all the tension. In all honesty, he doesn’t know how Lydia handles it so well, at least until she caves in. He’s only feeling a tiny part of what she’s feeling and it makes him sick. Stiles lies in bed wide awake, unable to fall asleep for at least half an hour and this, the waiting part, is the one he hates the most. But they have a _system_ for this, so he waits it out. Waits for her to make a move.

 _The system_ … Their whole arrangement started with the _incident_ , a nefarious occurrence that happened about two months before the end of their senior year. The Dread Doctors had been terrorizing Beacon Hills then and things got to a breaking point, one that the pack almost didn’t recover from.

Kira had left town at one point to get away from the pack – mostly from Scott – afraid of not being able to control the fox within her. Liam had been another concerning issue, growing stronger as the days went by and eventually facing off Scott with the incentive of the Dread Doctors. Not the younger wolf's fault; the villains easily got to him when he was defenseless and it was beyond Liam to fight all three of them. They had him hooked to a machine before the werewolf could have even considered yelling or howling for help.

Scott was, of course, a mess with all that the chaotic things that were happening simultaneously. Kira would barely talk to him, he tried to avoid Liam at all costs and every time Scott reached for his best friend, he couldn’t help the nagging feeling that Stiles was lying to him about something, keeping things from him. When the Alpha asked Lydia about it, about if she knew if there was something going on with Stiles, the banshee lied to him as well.

As for Malia, the girl had thankfully left town with the Desert Wolf as soon as she found out who her mother was, closely followed by Theo and leaving a rather stunned, yet relieved Stiles behind. After what had happened with Donovan and Stiles’ growing closeness with Lydia – who he had opened up to and who supported him as he recovered from his actions and dealt with its consequences -, Stiles was already thinking of what would be the best way to break up with his girlfriend. By taking off, Malia had made it easier for him.

Stiles… Stiles was just as damaged as the rest of them but at least he had Lydia and Lydia had him, and Lydia was his constant from then on. The guilt of killing Donovan even if in self-defense just wouldn’t fade and so Stiles had started to get away from the pack, closing himself from the others. Malia wouldn’t understand his attitude and Stiles wouldn’t explain it, and it wasn’t until Lydia insisted that the brown-haired boy showed her his hurt shoulder that Stiles ended up breaking down and confessing to his actions, and Lydia had been right beside him to pick up the pieces.

Things were rough for a while. No one in the pack really trusted anyone anymore with the exception of the human and the banshee, who just grew closer despite all odds. Almost at the end of senior year and when the pack, at much cost, finally defeated the Dread Doctors, something was just not sitting well with Stiles. He kept having this suspicion that things were not really over yet, a suspicion that only grew when Lydia confessed to him that she’d been holding back a scream for a couple of days, one that she just knew deep down would be completely different from anything she had ever screamed before.

Together they came up with possible scenarios that they presented to Scott, most of them revolving around a new menace in town but the Alpha was still recovering from recent events, and the last thing he wanted was to even acknowledge the existence of another threat. To Scott, things were just getting back on track. It also didn’t help that by then Stiles still hadn’t confided his secret to his best friend or anyone else besides Lydia, so maybe Scott’s hurt feelings had played a part on his decision of not believing Stiles.

Still, bad as everything was, Stiles didn’t flail and neither did Lydia.

And that’s why they were away from Beacon Hills that night, the night of the _incident_. Stiles and Lydia had both woken up with a bad feeling that day but had decided to ignore it, and so they went out to follow one of their leads to see what they could find; it’s not like they don’t have bad feelings almost every day. They intended on finding out proof concrete enough to take to Scott and make him listen about their suspicions, but instead Stiles and Lydia found themselves in harm’s way.

They had been by themselves two towns away from Beacon Hills when it happened, and Lydia still remembers everything clearly, every little detail like if it had been yesterday. They had been on an abandoned building at the time, late at night as per usual, when they were attacked. Lydia still laughs humorlessly at the irony of the whole situation; for years they’d faced supernatural threats and as they investigated another one, who could tell a damned robbery would do such damage?

They had been reckless, Lydia knows that. The building was in a remote part of town and they had wrongly assumed that they’d be alone. They had no protection, they had been focused on the task at hand and Stiles hadn’t even locked up the Jeep. Neither was counting with the addict, homeless guy that was lurking in the dark, lustful for the tiniest glimpse of anything wealthy to steal that he could later trade for drugs, and when he saw Lydia and Stiles walking into the building he was currently occupying, it was like fate had been traced for the man. He had studied them carefully for a while, until both the boy and the girl were comfortable enough doing whatever they were doing so that he could catch them off guard.

Before they knew it, Stiles was fighting the older man in order to try and protect Lydia while she was desperately looking around the room to find something they could defend themselves with. She could hear muffled cries of pain, both from the attacker and from Stiles, along with things being thrown to the ground or against the wall. Unfortunately for her, she also heard the distinctive slicing sound of a knife ripping through Stiles’ flesh like if she were in tune with it. It’s the most terrifying sound she’s ever heard.

She remembers turning around quickly to still see the knife buried in Stiles’ abdomen, blood spilling effortlessly as the seconds passed. Their attacker just let the knife fall and turned around to run away, taking Lydia’s purse with him and leaving them with a shocked expression on his face, like he couldn’t believe he’d done that. Lydia couldn’t either.

She had pursed her lips so tight it had hurt her, trying her best not to let the scream out, the scream that she had known for days was coming. She rushed to Stiles’ side, kneeling on his blood as Stiles all but had fallen to the ground helpless. She didn’t scream his name, not just then; instead she held back the sobs that were already making her choke. Her eyes brimmed with tears; she could barely see Stiles clearly.

Stiles doesn’t remember much of what happened after he got stabbed. He does remember blood, too much blood around him and recalls meeting Lydia’s petrified gaze before he blacked out. Lydia can still see that moment clearly in her mind when she closes her eyes at night, the moment when he closed his. Thankfully her clinical judgement had taken charge then. Making sure that he still had a pulse and taking off her cardigan and her belt to make a tourniquet to help stop the bleeding, Lydia still can’t to this day explain where she got the strength to carry Stiles’ limp body back to the Jeep.

As she drove around a city that she was unfamiliar with while looking for the hospital, wasting time that she knew they couldn’t afford to lose, Lydia had wanted nothing but to yell at Stiles to wake up, to stay with her, to murmur comfort words that they both needed to hear but she couldn’t. Lydia wouldn’t open her mouth, afraid of what was coming out. She found herself breathless soon enough, suffocating, the dead silence set inside his Jeep too much for her to bear.

By the time Lydia had stopped the vehicle in front of the hospital, she knew. She just knew and so she allowed herself to silently break down and start crying for a moment, her grip tightening on the steering wheel as hard as she could to ground herself, her heart stammering wildly in her chest before even looking his way in a last attempt of preventing what she knew was coming.

Shaking, Lydia had gotten out and rounded the Jeep, opening the door to the passenger side to find a livid, lifeless Stiles just sitting there, his blood being the only color she could really acknowledge. There had been a sense of finality to it, something that Lydia still can’t really put in words other than that something seemed to have snapped inside of her, something that had Lydia falling to her knees on the rough asphalt, all of a sudden dizzy and sick to her stomach, inevitably screaming his name. She had screamed like she had never had before and like she still hopes she’ll never have to again.

It had been such a powerful scream that the pack had heard it, the supernatural frequency breaking barriers at the agony that Lydia knew was depicted in her voice. It had been such a powerful scream that 5 doctors, 7 nurses and 3 passers had come rushing out of the ER to see what was happening.

It had been their luck. Hadn’t they been that close to a hospital, Lydia believes that their fate would have been totally different. The medical staff had started working on Stiles right away, taking him to the resuscitation room and away from her, trying their best to revive the boy even though Lydia was sure she had lost him. A group of people had stayed behind for her, trying to get her on her feet and inside the hospital as well to check for injuries. Understandably, Lydia knows that now, since she was soaked in his blood. But she hadn’t been able to move, to speak, to breathe because when Stiles’ heart had stopped, so had hers.

She remembers vividly something breaking inside of her, something leaving her alone to face the world by herself, and it wasn’t until Deaton explained it to her days later that she understood. Their emotional connection, the string that kept Stiles and Lydia tied to one another had been broken possibly beyond repair, something that happens in a lifetime with the death of your soulmate, and that’s why Lydia couldn’t feel him - and the pull that she always subconsciously knew was there - anymore. It had been weird since she had never really acknowledged his presence within her, not really, in whatever form she can call it, but Stiles had always been with her somehow but not just then. It was just like the saying; _you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone_.

Those had been the most unbearable minutes of her life, the minutes that took the doctors to revive and operate on Stiles. When she had gotten to see him – and because as soon as she had been given the news, Lydia had reasonably made a tantrum about it -, even watching him passed out but actually breathing hadn’t been enough to believe it, so she wouldn’t leave the room. All because she couldn’t feel him; it had been like he wasn’t actually there, alive and within her reach.

That’s how the pack found them a few hours later; Stiles asleep in a hospital bed hooked to several machines, beaten up all over, and Lydia standing against the window, fingers fidgeting nervously as all that she could do was watch him breathe.

When they asked her what had happened, Lydia couldn’t really speak at first. How do you explain that you might have just realized that the person who just died on you was your soulmate? How can you say that you can’t feel them anymore, except that they’re alive and might actually make it? That regardless, you’re starting to wonder if the heaviness that settled in your chest is ever gonna go away?

It had been hard for the others to find the pair. They didn’t even know where Stiles and Lydia were at the time and Lydia’s unnatural scream had startled everyone. It had been so out of nowhere that Scott hadn’t even known what to do right away. When he got together with the rest of the pack, Deaton included, it had dawned on Scott that Stiles would probably know what to do right then along with Lydia, but they were the ones that the pack needed to find.

He had opted for his next best choice and called the Sheriff, finding out that Lydia and Stiles had given the man several places where they had been supposedly headed. The Sheriff had even joked about it, saying that he had thought the kids had finally agreed on a first date and that that was the reason why they had been so secretive about it. When Scott told the man why he was calling, all humor had vanished from the Sheriff’s face. If Lydia had been screaming, then she wasn’t the one who was dying or the one who was already dead.

It took them almost four hours to find the right place, a combined effort of too many phone calls to the Sheriff’s department, 911 and werewolf senses. When they had reached the hospital, neither Scott nor his best friend’s dad really wanted to move, afraid of what they’d find. Deaton had been the first to reach out to Lydia, to break her out of her daze because he needed to know all the facts; every little detail could help the boy.

Lydia had done nothing but stuttering, blurting things out incoherently, her eyes constantly drifting to the boy lying on the bed as if not to miss a rise and fall of his chest. Deaton had instructed her not to leave his side but he didn’t really have to. Lydia was never gonna leave Stiles by himself again.

It took an enormous toll on her, the traumatic event, much more than it did on Stiles and he knows that. He knows that that is why she has this episodes sometimes, extreme anxiety overruling her better judgement, fear, utter panic, worry for him, for them both. Worse, being a banshee only enhances it.

True to her word, Lydia hadn’t left his side for over a month, spending her days and nights at the hospital until he was released, then spending her time at the Stilinskis despite the awkward glances both the Sheriff and her mother kept casting her. Neither had ever said much about it just like Lydia and Stiles themselves, but whatever it was that made Lydia feel more relieved from being around made Stiles feel the same way.

He only understood completely almost a month and a half after the incident, in an afternoon when Lydia - not able to keep it to herself anymore and after saying goodbye to the Sheriff once they were finished with lunch - met Stiles in his room and said that she needed to talk. Stiles had been resting on his bed, sitting against his headboard when he nodded in compliance because whatever it was that she had been keeping from him for all those weeks, it made him just as nervous. Lydia had been resolute, not hesitating when she walked to his bed and then climbed on top, timidly straddling him as they both searched the other’s eyes; for what, they weren’t sure.

She had started crying then, telling him everything she could remember from that god forsaken night as he mindfully listened to her, holding her close through every second of it because unlike Lydia, Stiles didn’t remember everything but she did, and it hurt her the most. She explained to him what Deaton had told her, that the man had suspected for long that their connection was stronger than most, that he himself related it to the mythology around the red string of fate and the concept of soulmates, and that upon Stiles’ death the rules had changed. According to the legends, Stiles and Lydia were destined, romantically or not, but they’d already had their opportunity to find each other in this lifetime.

Deaton had consulted with some friends of his in order to get more information on what could be done next. The answer had been to keep both persons close to one another and eventually the universe would balance it out. If all turned out okay, Lydia would eventually be able to feel Stiles again, now more powerfully since she was now aware of their bond. They should still try to strengthen it, but how they would do that was something that Stiles and Lydia would both have to figure out on their own.

And so they did.

Stiles had been a little skeptic when Lydia had said the word _soulmate_. Sure he knew they belong together, he’d always known that really, but it seemed a bit too unrealistic, like to him the concept didn’t live up to what he and Lydia had and still have to this day. Like it’s not a big enough concept to define them. But then Lydia had started to cry harder in his arms when she poured her heart out, confessing how she had felt when he was gone, how dreadful those minutes had been for her when he’d been dead, how the voices she hears sometimes started calling his name into the shadows, and so what followed her admissions had been instinctive, meant to be, and neither had stopped it.

They made love for the first time that day, their feelings overcoming them full force like the time they had was limited. Stiles had soothed her first, hushed her concerns away by whispering repeatedly that he was there, that he was not going anywhere, and when she calmed they had just stared at the other, studying them and their emotions just by looking into their eyes and then they were moving, Lydia’s lips crashing onto his fiercely. The rest, like they say, is history.

It was supposed to be an isolated episode, a display of love to reassure the other but as the time went by, Stiles and Lydia found themselves falling into a patterned routine, one they can’t really escape. It starts with Lydia (mostly Lydia) breaking down for some reason, usually insecurity about the future, concern about something that’s to happen with both her and/or Stiles, or anxiety when there’s a new supernatural threat around. They’ve learned to wait it out now, and sometimes Lydia is even able to calm herself down without needing something more but mostly she can’t, so in those days she’ll find Stiles.

If he’s able to relax her just with cuddling, they’ll cuddle the night away. If not, she’ll let him know what she needs. Sometimes they just make out, sometimes they do more. What’s important is that it isn’t over until Lydia can feel _it_ , _it_ being the _something_ she feels inside her when she finally has him with her again. Whether it is in her heart or her soul or wherever, she can feel this warmth all over and their connection is there again, the pull is almost tangible, and will be for days until something happens again and Lydia starts doubting it once more. And so the cycle restarts.

If in occasions like this they do fall in bed together, it is both natural and inevitable and neither voices what they’re truly feeling towards the other mostly because they don’t have to; their actions speak for themselves. But they’ll also not talk about it because they’re afraid that it might make matters worse, and the last thing they want and - to a biological level now – _need_ is to be away from each other.

Because in times like these, if Lydia can’t get out of the damaging, dazing state that assaults her (or Stiles, as it has happened in some instances) sometimes, Stiles will start to feel it as well. Her anxiety, her fear to be left alone, all of her insecurities will dawn on him as if they were his own. If their connection was already deep before, now is far, far more.

It’s not something they have ever really talked about, their _system_ ; just a few times here and there and only when they’re drunk so that they can blame it on the alcohol and pretend that it isn’t an issue, but the truth is that their system is based upon repetition. After times like these - and whether they just cuddle or actually end up having sex - the next days are the ones that most certainly are a forbidden topic, because the days that follow are the ones that they pretend didn’t happen.

If both Stiles and Lydia are feeling better in the morning, then they’ll just be more – so much more - affectionate towards each other the next few days and that, the way they act then on itself, is already reason enough for most of the friends they have made in college to think they are a couple, much like the pack they left behind. But if they’re not feeling better and they still need to work on their connection some more (which sometimes is the reality and others really isn’t, even if they use it as an excuse), Stiles and Lydia will just have a couple of days for themselves and actually _be_ a couple, not caring what other people think.

In truth they know that they’re lying to themselves, and there always comes a time when one of them or both wonders about what would be so terrible if they just gave in, but then they remember that Stiles died and that Lydia almost died along with him out of grief. That she stills feels it and that now, because of their heightened connection, Stiles can feel it too. Not as strongly because Lydia is the banshee, not him, but surely strongly enough to make Stiles want to rip his heart out, and neither would ever want to do something to put their relationship in jeopardy again.

So that’s what they do. They drink their emotions away and enjoy the lie while they can, then pretend it didn’t happen in the first place. And however fucked up their system might be, they are not so much better. Stiles and Lydia are still not healed, but two years later their system has proved to work for them and they’re still together as proof. Like Lydia had been there for him and still is, Stiles is there for her too and that’s all that matters.

And that’s why Stiles is waiting out on her right now. If Lydia is able to calm herself down, Stiles will know because he’ll feel calmer too. If not, he already knows what comes next. And he’s sure that that is what’s about to happen because suddenly he feels his heart beat a little faster, his palms getting sweaty, his breathing picking up its pace and he knows, he _knows_ that Lydia is on the other side of his bedroom door, conflicted about whether she should get in or not.

Happens every time.

“Come here, you,” he murmurs, aware that she’ll be able to hear him. Lydia walks in promptly, wearing the same t-shirt she had on in the afternoon. She comes in barefoot and her hair is a mess and Stiles knows that it’s because she plays with it when she’s nervous. She’s already crying and that’s never a good sign; it means that she’s more worn-out than she’s trying to let show and it breaks his heart, knowing that this happens because of him. He hates seeing her like this. “Come here,” he hushes, making room for her on the bed and immediately letting her nuzzle against him, holding her as close as he can.

It’s not this bad most of the times, but the thought of doing or wanting to do something that could screw their relationship has Lydia dreading the future, and her idea of him being her plus one at the wedding had come out without much thought. She should have never brought it up in the first place. “I can’t lose you, not again,” she all but whispers. Lydia sobs, curling up against his flank and crying onto his chest. “I’m sorry.”

The arm he has around her waist only pulls her closer, infinite kisses placed on her forehead and the top of her head soothingly. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m okay.”

Stiles always loses count to how many times he says it, reassures her that he’s not going anywhere. Even if he wanted to, he’s not so sure he could. They stay like that for almost an hour, until Lydia stops crying, until her breathing is evened out. Then they wait again, cuddling in silence as Lydia gives in to the voices inside her head, as she gives in to her instincts, searching to see if it’s already enough.

She doesn’t really feel him, not yet, but she’s been trying to delay the inevitable lately. When their _moments_ first started, it happened once every two months. About eight months after the incident, it became a monthly occurrence. Now it’s every two weeks and Lydia doesn’t know where it’s going, mostly because a very big part of what happens it’s on them and them alone, not on their connection, and she doesn’t know what to do with that. They always give in though, selfish as it may be. They need the other, they want to have them but in reality they can’t so they’ll take whatever they can get.

“Stiles?” She hums, voice laced with sleep.

“Hmm?” He murmurs back, kissing her hair, his fingers tracing calming patterns on her arm.

“Sleep?” She asks unsure, wanting to give it a try before she ends up sleeping with him yet again.

Well, not sleep, sleep.

 _Sleep_.

“Sure.” He never questions what she wants the same way she doesn’t question what he wants. They’ve learned to read the other like a book and what they want, they get, as long as the other is on the same page.

She places a chaste kiss on his lips and they spoon, Stiles holding Lydia close as he rests his head on the crook of her neck, gently kissing her shoulder as she tries her best to fall asleep, focusing on how loved she feels when she’s in his arms, how safe. When he notices that her breathing is getting slower, Stiles stops to try and fall asleep as well, tension leaving him altogether when he hears her light snoring; a sign that, for tonight, she might not need him again.

He dozes off thinking that in the morning they’ll be okay and not as frightened as they are now that things between them could take a turn. In the morning starts their good period, the days when they are what they want to be, no questions asked. They might have to postpone their conversation about the wedding though, he idly wonders. He wouldn’t want to mess with their good days.

The day starts differently this time, however, and it had only happened twice like this before. Stiles is woken up by Lydia sitting beside him on the bed, nudging him softly. She doesn’t say a word and waits expectant until he wakes up properly. Studying her, Stiles finds her more sad than anxious, calmer but seemingly more tired like she hasn’t rested the tinniest bit, and he knows.

He _knows_ that she needs him, and he knows what comes next.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to bebethsas for beta-reading and always cheering me on! Also to lydias-martin for the extra pair of eyes.

“I’m sorry” is the first thing she says, knowing that Stiles hates when this happens. Not because he doesn’t enjoy their… _Tender_ _moments_ in nights like this one, but because he doesn’t like what’s underneath. Because he loathes the overwhelming despair to make everything right again, because he detests Lydia’s fear to lose him over something so meaningless. But most of all, because he abhors that the deep care that Lydia feels for him, someone who’s so important to her, is in the end the cause for these nightly events of theirs in the first place.

Stiles shakes his head dismissively, letting Lydia climb onto his lap like she always does when she meets him in nights like this. She likes the comfort it brings, the impossible closeness of their bodies that she so desperately needs and Stiles never stops her. He likes it too.

He cups her cheeks as soon as she’s settled, his thumbs caressing the smooth skin with such fondness that Lydia feels like she’s burning hot under his innocent touch despite having done nothing yet, his eyes fixed on hers as if they’re staring into her soul. Stiles leans in slowly and kisses her, a peck that barely grazes her full lips and yet feels so much like home.

No matter how much Lydia tries to deny it, it always feels like coming home to him.

His movements are deliberately slow; he prefers to give her as much control as he possibly can whenever she’s so affected. And so he kisses her gently, languidly as if it’s the last thing he’ll ever do in his life and for a moment, as he always has in times like this, Stiles can’t help but wonder why they don’t give this – _them_ \- a chance.

As fleetingly as the thought attacks him, however, it’s gone because it doesn’t matter. For one, these nights never happen (or so they want so fiercely to believe), being seldom brought up and even more rarely acted upon. These moments of such raw vulnerability are practically taboo in their apartment, and if it ever seems like a conversation is headed in that directed they mask it just like they do their feelings, afraid it could tear their world apart. On the other hand, it doesn’t matter because Stiles lov—

Because he has rather deep feelings for one of his closest friends, that is; a connection so profound that it’s found in books, for god’s sake. And because it never mattered whether their true intentions were voiced out loud; actions always spoke louder than any words between them ever could.

Lydia tugs at the hem of his shirt and pulls it up and off him, discarding hers as well as soon as her hands are free. She has never cared about being naked in front of Stiles, not once; the way he always seems more invested in making her feel good, in revering who she is instead of what she looks like will forever tug at her heart, most likely. It really only is about lust in the days after they meet like this, and even then what she experiences with Stiles she has never experienced with someone else and she doesn’t think she ever will.

In all truth, she wouldn’t even want to.

She always kisses his scar first, before they ever do anything else.

As Lydia moves until she’s kneeling on the mattress in front of him, Stiles already knows to lean back against the headboard and let her worship him, for a change. Her touch is always careful even though his flesh isn’t as sensitive there anymore, the memory of that god forsaken night always present. Her movements are rehearsed, a dance they’ve done many times before and that has never left Stiles anything less than stunned. The reverence conveyed when her fingers shakily brush along the scar that mars his body, the warmth of her lips when she kisses it as if she needs the reminder that he’s alive, the fierceness in her gaze when he tilts her chin up and pulls Lydia back to him because he can never let her do this for long. Stiles lets her because he knows that she needs it, but the pain in her eyes has him undone every time.

“I’m okay,” he murmurs reassuringly against her lips, eyes never leaving hers. “I’m okay.”

“I’m not.”

Her whisper carries through the room as if she’d shouted, and the reality of the situation dawns on them both momentarily. Stiles had died, and Lydia almost died right along with him. A part of her _did_ die when he stopped breathing, and she has tried her hardest to gain it back ever since. And if it takes using each other and not talking about it for Lydia to find some peace of mind, to feel this imaginary string inside of her finally reaching for Stiles again as if it had never been cut in the first place… If it leads to Lydia eventually not being afraid of losing him anymore, then Stiles will always come back to this and give her his everything.

The hurt in her trembling voice makes him ache, makes every fiber of his being want to protect her from any harm just the way he wanted back on that ill-fated night, makes him want to repent for ever leaving her to exist in a world where he no longer lived.

Lydia sees it in his eyes, and for a moment they mirror each other perfectly.

In the next, they fall into their patterned routine.

Their lips meet roughly, urgently as if time is running out. Lydia loves the way he kisses so ardently as if he’s pouring all that he has into their kisses; he always has ever since their first kiss in the locker room all those years ago. Stiles loves the way that Lydia clutches to him as if she thinks he’ll disappear at any second; he thinks it grounds her, being able to prove to her terrified subconscious that Stiles is, in fact, there and alive and breathing. He likes the way it grounds him too.

“I’m here,” he mumbles when they part to catch their breaths, chests heaving.

His hands press against her flesh, low on her waist and yet not teasing. They’re just _there_ , comfortingly respectful and waiting for her instructions, Lydia knows. Stiles always trusts her to tell him exactly what she needs and when she needs it. It’s one of the reasons why Lydia is in lov—

She rolls her hips to dismiss her dangerous thoughts, a moan escaping her when only their undergarments keep them from being fully unclothed. Stiles lets out a grunt low in his throat but doesn’t do anything else until Lydia murmurs bashfully “Is this okay?”

Because sometimes making out is enough. Hell, sometimes even cuddling is more than sufficient to appease Lydia’s urges and to connect them. And then sometimes it seems that even if they fucked all night long it wouldn’t be enough to tap into their emotional connection.

Tonight and for right now… Right now Lydia needs _more_.

Stiles nods, his hands sliding down to her thighs to pull Lydia a little closer as he adjusts more comfortably on the bed. It’s all the encouragement that Lydia needs to lower her head and kiss him again, starting to move her hips in slow, back and forth motions that have Stiles hardening in an instant. They kiss just as unhurriedly; Lydia’s hands lost in his hair, his fingertips brushing up and down her flanks until his hands settle just under her breasts.

Stiles can feel how wet Lydia becomes with the increasing friction between their bodies, her wetness seeping through the fabric of her panties to his boxers as she gasps for air. Stiles ravishes her jaw, her neck, her shoulders because she always needs to feel him everywhere (and it’s not like he opposes to the idea anyway), his hands guiding her movements until they become more erratic, frantic, until Lydia cums with a sharp cry, biting down on his shoulder to try and suppress the sound.

Stiles nudges her cheek with the tip of his nose when she calms, and kisses her lips chastely when she straightens to face him, patiently waiting for Lydia to tell him what to do. He knows that she’ll tell him when it’s enough, knows that he himself will feel it too whenever their bond strengthens again and he knows it wasn’t just yet.

As if in confirmation, Lydia hoarsely asks for “More”.

Stiles kisses her forehead soothingly and breathes her in for a moment, fully aware that anything he does whenever Lydia seeks him in nights like this will matter; anything can make a difference, and he wouldn’t want to fail her again. “Tell me what you need,” he complies, kissing her temple, her cheek, just underneath her chin.

Lydia lets out a relieved sigh at how Stiles always reads her body like it’s something he was born to do, how he’s learned to know her inside and out with such ease. It’ll never cease to baffle her just how much he is an intrinsic part of her very existence.

She finds his right hand and leads it to her core, unabashed, never breaking eye contact. She always tries so hard to make sure he enjoys himself too but Stiles, to his credit, can hold his ground for far longer than Lydia ever expected. His hardness barely twitches when his index finger traces her slit over her panties and Lydia closes her eyes in pleasure; it does stand more to attention when Stiles pulls the fabric aside to slip one finger in, then another, her heat making it hard for Stiles’ breath to hitch suddenly.

He distracts himself with kissing the parts of her body that are closest to him; these nights are never about him and Stiles adamantly refuses to fail her unless he can’t help it (because truly, when they do have sex and he’s buried inside Lydia, it isn’t exactly easy to _not_ cum). As his fingers pump in and out of her in rapidly increasing movements, Stiles trails hot kisses down the column of her throat down to her bare chest, taking a nipple in his mouth just when he decides to circle her clit with his thumb. He splays his other hand across her lower back to keep her as close to him as he possibly can, and Lydia digs her nails into the nape of his neck as she feels her second climax quickly approaching.

Stiles thinks they might be getting there, feeling as if some invisible part of his being is reaching out to her and trying to tie a knot where two ends are loose. Lydia throws her head back this time, long strawberry blonde locks tickling the hand he has on her back as she gets herself off in his hand, not caring to quiet down her moans anymore. It makes it all the harder – pun intended – for Stiles to control himself but he still does it, taking deep breaths when Lydia starts clenching around his fingers this time.

He keeps at it, slowly letting her ride her orgasm until he feels like she can take a third one, and even though Lydia glances at him wide eyed because maybe this is enough, maybe they don’t need anything more, Stiles can always read her.

Stiles is the one who always really read her.

When she kisses him this time, it’s wilder. Stiles shamelessly fucks her with his fingers until she’s satiated from dissolving into pleasure once again, until he feels this strange sense of connection to her that always seems to be more present when this happens, until he can tell that Lydia is exhausted and she rests her head on his shoulder to catch her breath.

She thanks him with light kisses on his neck and cheeks, a passionate kiss on his lips for good measure to which Stiles always responds just as lovingly. When Lydia manages to regain some of her strength back and climbs off his lap, she notices that Stiles is still hard. She hates when he doesn’t get to cum because he makes these nights about her, always, and it maddens her that she gets so caught up in her needs that she sometimes forgets that he has needs too.

But Stiles is always too caring, too concerned for her to ever think about himself when Lydia is involved. How some people can say he’s selfish is beyond her.

He knows what she’s thinking and dismisses it with a shrug of his shoulders. It’s not the first time this happened and he’s found that he’s okay with it. He feels that if she were to get him off now, it would feel like an obligation, as if she had to do it in retribution and Stiles always wants these nights to be all about her. He prefers the next days anyway. “How are you feeling?” He asks, caressing her cheek.

Lydia is still reluctant about whether to do something about his raging erection, but the warmth in his eyes has Lydia forgetting everything other than their bond. That pressure in her chest makes her want to laugh and cry, dance around the house distractedly or shout from rooftops; it makes her want to share every bit of her future with this boy who’s so dear to her and never let go. It makes her want to tell him exactly how she feels. “I’m better,” she replies instead.

“Do you want to try and get some sleep now?” Stiles questions fondly, and it always amazes Lydia how he can put so much of himself in his interactions with her, as if he has nothing to lose and all to give.

“Yeah,” she agrees, the adrenalin starting to wear out. “If you’re sure,” she adds, because it can’t be exactly enjoyable for Stiles to have a boner and practically pretend it’s not there when she really wouldn’t mind at all taking care of it, but after the first time it had happened Stiles and Lydia had talked about it (in one of those rare, rare occasions when they do), and in the end Lydia understood his reasoning.

Stiles nods with a small smile on his face, pecks her lips before getting up from the bed and extending a hand to her. They both head for the bathroom and while Lydia cleans herself and borrows a pair of his boxers even though she could just as easily have picked up some of her own underwear, Stiles washes his hands and relieves himself. Idly, they both think that if their friends found out about _these_ routines (the couple-y ones and not exactly the ones they already probably think Stiles and Lydia share in the bedroom), Stiles and Lydia would never hear the end of it.

But the truth is that no one understands. Only Stiles and Lydia can understand what it feels like to _know_ that your soulmate has died and that you must try your hardest to reconnect with them like Lydia does. Only Stiles and Lydia can understand what it feels like to truly hurt for your soulmate whenever you can tell that she so desperately needs to ensure, in any way possible, that you’re still here and alive and well because she can’t quite believe her eyes and it’s all your fault, like Stiles does.

So when no one but them can understand what it’s like, they can only really rely on each other. Deep down, that’s why even having these routines in the first place doesn’t bother them in the slightest. Sure, they don’t _talk_ about them, but they don’t overthink it either because it comes so naturally.

And if Stiles and Lydia fall asleep wrapped up in each other that night, both only in his underwear, their skin tickled by the gentle breeze that can be felt on that Summer night, neither really cares. In fact, they relish in it, knowing that at least for now all is well and that they are in each other’s arms; that they will _wake up_ in each other’s arms too.

If Stiles and Lydia fall asleep wrapped up in each other that night and the chaste kisses and light touches they share before falling asleep are more intimate than anything they did that night, neither has the presence of mind – or the will – to worry about it.

It feels as right as breathing.

**Author's Note:**

> you-make-me-wander on tumblr and pinterest, youmakemewander on twitter and you_make_me_wander on instagram


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